


Leaving a Mark

by 26stars



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, References to Past Injury, References to past trauma, S1-2 interim, just a little quiet moment for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 06:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: "You don't need another human being to make your life complete, but let's be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn't see them as disasters in your soul but cracks to put their love into is the most calming thing in this world." ~Emery AllenMay doesn't like talking about her scars, but Skye is always ready to listen





	Leaving a Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Florchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/gifts).



> I ran across this quote a couple of years ago, and it always makes me think of the characters of AoS (god knows they've all got enough scars by now). Florchis requested "Hipbone kiss" from a kiss prompt list, and I was happy to have an excuse to bring this quote in. Hope you enjoy! (Ps your stomach kiss request got a shout out in here too!)

They’re between things, which is not a place they often find themselves these days. Their days have taken on a regular pattern of mission, fallout of the mission, prep for the next mission, the mission…

But for now, at least, they aren’t needed. For now, with their gear stowed and their dirty clothes in the hamper and the sweat and grit from the last mission finally washed from their skin, they’re sprawled together in minimal clothes on top of the covers of their bed, letting the last of the adrenaline finally bleed away. May lies with her head on one of their pillows but Skye’s head rests on her bare stomach, as if maintaining skin-to-skin contact could allow her to siphon some of May’s enduring calm.

Nothing about this mission was extraordinary—most of it wasn’t even anything she hadn’t done before. But even with months of intensive field-specialist training behind her, Skye still finds herself riding a shaky adrenaline high for hours after every mission they go out on. Now, her heart rate has slowed a little since they touched down again in the Playground, but her mind and blood still buzz with energy, a reaction she has yet to find a way to consciously thwart. May isn’t oblivious to her state right now—Skye is sure of that—but it seems like her S.O. is giving her the chance to manage her reactions on her own.

_It’s not about not feeling it—it’s about controlling it, which requires feeling it…_

Desperate to focus on anything beyond her own skin, Skye keeps her attention on May’s, running her fingertips lightly over the scars within reach. They’ve been together long enough for Skye to know their patterns and placement well, but something about touching those marks still feels holy, like touching a sacrament previously hung out of reach.

Following the scars is like following a map backwards in time. There are places where the marks are almost the same color as the skin around it, memorials of pain in May’s distant past. There are a few that have held onto the redness of recent injury, like grudges still awaiting satisfaction, though Skye doubts any of the people who put these marks on May’s body have lived to brag about it. She’s heard the short answers for most of them and the long stories of a few, and Skye is still a little ashamed of how long it took her to notice how much May _didn’t_ enjoy telling stories of the things she’s survived to live this long.

Skye doesn’t ask for stories anymore. But she hangs on every word when they’ve offered.

Like now.

“That one’s from the nineties,” May is saying somewhat sleepily as Skye runs her thumb over the uneven line just north of May’s left hip. Her eyes remain closed, and Skye knows she’s doing this on purpose, offering her a distraction from the storm within her. “I’d already been out of the Academy a couple of years. It wasn’t anywhere near my first op, but I made a rookie mistake. I was the specialist escorting a pair of engineers—we were part of the long-op team keeping tabs on Libya’s nuclear program at the time. Short story is that a guard got in the way when we were on our way out of an intel retrieval, and I disarmed him, busted his knee, and took his radio. Before we were out of range though, he threw a boot knife after us. My fault—should have checked for extra weapons. Glad it hit me and not the scientists, though.”

“I hope you actually saw a doctor for that one,” Skye says, kissing the uneven line, the same way May kisses the bullet scars on her stomach. “Doesn’t look like an easy thing to stitch up on your own.”

“I had to go into emergency surgery as soon as we got extracted,” May admits, fingers combing softly through Skye’s hair. “I’d lost too much blood.”

Skye’s hand flexes involuntarily around May’s side, just like they always do when she learns about the pain the world has put this woman through, whether she volunteered for it or not. May opens her eyes and looks down at her, understanding in her gaze, her hand curling gently around the crown of Skye’s head. She doesn’t have to say it out loud for Skye to hear the phrase, spoken only a few times in their training times but foundational nonetheless.

_It’s part of being the shield._

Everything they do—learning how to fight, how to shoot, how to escape, how to deceive, how to manage, how to connect, how to endure—everything May has taught her is with the purpose of preparing her to be SHIELD. To be _the_ shield. Whether for one person or the world at large—her job is to be ready to step between danger and the vulnerable, to hold pain back in whatever way she can and take it on herself when there’s no better option. The whole point of their training is to make Skye’s odds of success the best they can be.

To make sure that their efforts leave as few scars as possible.

May gazes at her for a moment in solemn silence, then tugs Skye gently towards her chest. Skye moves eagerly, tucking herself against May’s body as the woman turns on her side, their hands finding each other and lacing together between their bracketing hearts.

“You did good today,” May whispers, lips brushing softly over her forehead.

“Thanks to you,” Skye whispers, raising their joined hands and kissing the woman’s calloused knuckles, then raising her head to kiss May’s lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”

They don’t talk about it, but Skye understands that this is the point too—to be capable enough to manage in the future if May is ever _not_ here. She doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to imagine any scenario where her S.O. is not by her side. But for now, Skye is choosing to be thankful that this is not the case. That the years have done their best, but May has done better, has made it through and, though full of scars, is still here.

**Author's Note:**

> Kiss prompt list [here](http://loved-the-stars-too-fondly.tumblr.com/post/176938861727/but-do-you-really-want-the-k)


End file.
